


not a fighter

by helsinkibaby



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Het, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: Mick questions Rip about him and Sara.





	not a fighter

**Author's Note:**

> This was a lonely prompt that was filled before I got back to it...
> 
> Theme: bad ass ladies  
> Prompt : Any, any M/F, "Of course I let her fight my battles for me, she's much better at fighting than I am."  
> http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/806478.html?thread=102912078#t102912078

"So, you and Sara." 

Mick's been drinking, Rip can tell from the tenor of his voice. Well, that and the fact that Mick is talking to him at all. He turns away from the cupboard, deciding that food is going to have to wait, and looks across the kitchen at the other man. 

"Me and Sara?" Repeating Mick's words as a question seems to be the safest option, particularly as he doesn't quite know where Mick is going with this. And make no mistake, he knows Mick is going somewhere. If the last couple of years have taught him anything, it's that while he might not be book clever, Mick Rory has a keen eye for people and is extremely economical with his words. When he speaks like this, there's a purpose to it. 

"Co-captains." Mick raises his glass to his lips and Rip frowns as he notices the bottle on the table. It's a dead ringer for the one that had been hidden in his office and he's suddenly fairly sure that it's no longer where he left it. Mick raises an eyebrow along with his glass. "Interesting." 

Rip crosses his arms over his chest. "It made sense, Mr Rory," he says. "We have different skill sets that complement each other..."

Mick snorts. "That's one way of putting it." There's a salacious tone to his voice that Rip had not at all meant to invite and he curses inwardly. 

"You know what I meant," he says and Mick tips back his head as he drains the glass. 

"I meant you do the diplomatic doublespeak as you cower behind her skirts." He fills up the glass again and Rip can't tell if his expression is amused or mocking. Or both. "What did you think I meant?" 

The question tips the balance in favour of mocking and Rip pulls another glass from the counter top, crosses the room and pours a generous splash of bourbon into it. "I'm hardly cowering," he points out, a smile coming to his lips as he sees Sara herself standing in the doorway. "Of course I let Sara do the fighting... She's so much better at it than I am." 

Sara snickers. "Damn straight," she drawls as she walks into the room and Rip takes some satisfaction in Mick's hastily covered up start. He'd known the other man hadn't realised Sara was behind him but it was always nice to have proof. Not to mention satisfying. "Besides," Sara continues, not even glancing in Mick's direction, eyes locked with Rip's and he takes a swig of his drink at the look he sees there, "Rip's a lover, not a fighter. Right?" 

Her lips curve in a smile that's only half a tease and she reaches out, never taking her eyes off his, and takes his glass in her hand. She drains the remainder of it and Rip swallows hard as he feels a matching smile coming to his own lips. 

Somewhere far, far away, Mick groans. "There's not enough booze on this tin can to put up with this," he grumbles, standing and grabbing the bottle before he clomps to the exit. 

Rip doesn't watch him go. 

Instead he watches as Sara's eyes dance with amusement, somewhat of a rare, if lovely, sight. "Are you flirting with me just to make Mr Rory uncomfortable?" 

Her smile turns positively impish. "It's an amusing side effect." 

"Amusing." He looks up and to the side of her, like he's considering the word, rolling it around in his head. "I don't think anyone's ever described my love-making as amusing before." 

It's a bit of a stretch but she doesn't call him on it. Instead she stretches her arms, loops them around his neck. "Want to see if you can help me think of any other words?" 

"Sara." She shivers at his name on her lips and his hands find her hips, slide lower. "I don't want you to be able to think at all." 

Her smile feels as good as it looks and he more than makes good on that particular wish.


End file.
